What She Owes Him
by Artistic Ane
Summary: Damon does not have time for this, with Katherine back in town, the Lockwood's family secret, Caroline's death and now Elena's declaration of no longer being friends. Why now, of all times, does he have to have a stalker beg him for money? And why does she insist that she owes him something, too? Rated for language in later chapters, and talk of prostitution. Takes place at S2x03
1. The New Vampire in Town

_Okay, here goes. Tonight, I was on top of the tallest tree I could find, and I just stared out at the city - no, it's actually more of a town - anyway, I just stared at it. It was dark, but still early enough that people were awake; houses and public services lit up the place well enough. The wind blew, and my hair was just flying behind me. The cold didn't bother me, though. Well, it hasn't for quite a while now._

_I inhaled deeply, and was overwhelmed by the scents of the area: forest, animals, vehicles, food, people. __Death__. And that is a scent I'm all too familiar with. And that, was what I was hoping to find._

_I leapt from my perch, landing safely on the ground. Of course, I was fine. It was only maybe thirty, thirty-five feet. Such a tiny distance, now._

_You know what I realized? I've never described myself. Years of writing in those notebooks, and then talking into these things, and not once do I say who I am. If I want this to be heard someday, better know who is saying these words. Haha. Well, better late than never, right?_

_Okay. My name, Frances Noreen Abigail Lennon. You can thank my Irish-German heritage for all that._

_Height, five foot seven and a half. And I love high heels. Too bad they don't make good travel footwear._

_Weight, well, I'd only tell you a lie. Average-looking, anyway._

_Hair, blonde and long, usually up; and eyes, blue. Ha. Used to love them, thought they stood out. Now, though... They only remind me._

_My birthday is May fifth. When I tell people that I am twenty-two, they look shocked and insist that I seem older. It's funny. I was always told that, ever since I was sixteen. I used to be flattered that I looked so mature. I mean a sixteen year old that looks twenty? As time went on, I guess I understood why I seemed older. You can't go through what I did and not seem aged. Now, though? I just laugh._

_Because they're right._

_I am older, but there is no way that I will ever look my age again. I think I would die if I ever looked eighty-seven._

_Except, I'm already dead._

_That is how I became a vampire, after all._

_My mission is nearly over. Because I found him tonight, finally tracked him, and I will, at last, make him pay._

_And for what he did to me and my family, I am going to get back at Damon Salvatore._

WWW

"Thank you for being honest with me," Elena said in a controlled voice. Damon nearly breathed a sigh of relief, before she continued, "And the answer to your question, about our friendship, is yes. You _have _lost me forever."

Damon looked at her, the pieces clicking together. "But you knew that already, didn't you? You used me today," he accused.

Elena shifted uncomfortably. "You had information about Katherine that I needed to know," she defended.

"I thought friends don't manipulate friends." He looked at her with a mixture of disgust and hurt. "You and Katherine have a lot more in common than just your looks."

He walked off her porch, leaving her speechless.

"Wow. She doesn't look happy."

Damon spun around. A young woman, maybe late twenties, was leaning against a lamppost ahead of him. Her hair was blonde and in a high ponytail, her blue eyes were sharp in her pale, pointed face. She was wearing a denim jacket, dark purple shirt, and a really gaudy necklace. Worn sneakers peeked out under the cuffs of her faded loose jeans.

"For that matter," she added, "neither do you. You break up, or something?"

Damon chuckled wryly. "Sweetheart, I am _not_ in a very good mood right now, so, if you know what is good for you, you'd leave. Right. Now."

"Oh wow, scary voice," she responded in a mock scared tone, straightening and walking towards him. "Don't take your bad mood out on me, all I did was make an observation. You gonna be okay?"

Would Bonnie still kill him if he killed her? "I don't see how that's any of your business." He began walking past her.

"You're right, it's not. However, speaking of business..." She began following him. Seriously, he did not want to deal with this right now. "You and I have some."

"Kid, I don't know you," he said, turning around. "Nor do I want to." He looked at her dead in the eye. "What you need to do, is run away. Right now. Get away from me, and never try to see me again."

She stared right back at him. "You owe me one hundred fifty bucks."

_'Ah, dammit, she must have vervain or something. Wait, what?'_

He stepped back. "What? Who are you?" She was certainly new in town. God, with Katherine, and the Lockwoods, and Blondie, and now Elena... This could not be worse timing.

"You mean you don't remember?" She scoffed. "_Typical_. I suppose we _could_ say that it was a long time ago, but in my experience, you probably forgot by the next morning."

Now, he was curious. Besides, this made an interesting distraction. At least he was not killing anyone. Yet.

"Why would I owe you money? I happen to have very good credit."

The stranger put on a thoughtful face. "Ah, but back then, I only dealt in cash. Fork it over, Blue Eyes."

"Blue...? What?" Why did that sound familiar?

She stared at him, as if looking for a sense of recognition. "Ugh, I hoped that would help you remember." She grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him close. "Look, buddy, I've got a few things to say to you, but first, I want what you owe me when you stiffed me."

"And when would that have been?" Now, he was getting slightly pissed.

"Chicago. In 1945."

What?

A very speechless Damon stared at the blonde, eyes wide, as the blue of her eyes were suddenly surrounded by a dark red and the veins on her face became very dark and prominent.

He quickly pushed her off. She rolled her neck as she allowed her eyes to clear.

"What do you want?"

She smiled. "I just want my money. Then I wanna talk."

He tried a different tactic. "Who are you?"

"Frances Lennon. We met at a club. And you left without paying."

"Did I...?"

"Turn me into this?" She smiled wider. "Pay up and then we can talk."

God, he was not going to get any answers this way. "Or, I can kill you, 'cause I don't really need to know anyways."

Miss Lennon looked a bit scared. "Please don't?"

Wow, no backbone at all. Maybe just a bit of violence would get her off. "Yeah, see, like you noticed, you caught me in a bad mood, and telling me to fork over money? Not a good way to introduce yourself."

Now, fire lit in her eyes. "Back then, I really needed the money. You're lucky I'm not charging interest." Huh. Okay, maybe a little bit of backbone. Did not mean he could not kill her, though. "Look, just think of it as... unfinished business on my end. Because you stiffed me, I had to go through a lot of shit the next day."

"Not my problem," he whispered before turning away. She appeared right in front of him.

"I'm _making_ it your problem. I _really_ needed the money then, and because you didn't pay, a lot of people got hurt."

"Really? Why is that?"

She gave him a hard look. "Because my father was a raging drunk who couldn't hold down a job, so it was up to me to pay the bills. And when the bills couldn't get paid, he got violent towards his children."

Damon paused. Okay, so it sounded tough. But this happened over sixty years ago. "And I care, why?"

Her face hardened even more. Within a second, she had his throat in her hand. "He _abused_ my eleven year old sister. Beat her up real bad, because _you._ Didn't. Pay me."

He grabbed her hand, and pulled it away from his throat. "Don't try that again," he warned. "I've had the day from hell, and you're not making it better." He twisted his wrist, and her arm snapped.

She didn't make a sound though. Her breathing became erratic and heavy, but not even a whimper escaped her lips.

"Oh, tough girl? Stay away from me." He resumed his walk home.

She chuckled, though it sounded forced. "You still owe me one fifty, and I'm not going to leave you alone until I get it."

"And why is that?" he asked, turning. "Why only now, after sixty-five years?"

She grunted in pain as her arm bent itself back into shape. After shaking off a bit, she faced him, saying, "My baby brother died last year."

He shook his head and put on his well-practiced, 'so?' face.

"My sister's the only one left from that night. And at Mikey's funeral, she asked me, why _was_ our father so mad that day?" She nonchalantly began walking toward him again. This time was different, she looked more like a feline, stalking its prey. "I told her the truth, I didn't bring home enough money that morning. She asked if I remembered why? And suddenly, I did. I assume it was only because I never really thought about it before, but all of sudden, those memories came pouring back in." She was back in his face. She shoved a finger at him. "You, Blue Eyes, fed on me, and mind controlled me to forget. Effect? I came home empty handed the next morning, and Pop popped. Meggie and I both thought, it'd be nice to get what we were owed."

"Except," he sighed, "I, don't, care. Especially since it happened so long ago."

"I _will_ get what is owed to my family, and then, and _only_ then, will you get what I owe you."

Damon laughed. "What you owe me? That sounds like a death threat."

"Does it?" she replied lightly. "I'm gonna stalk you until you pay up. I take cash, check, or credit now. And it has to come from you, not your brother. He isn't the one who slept with me."

And she disappeared. Damon spun around, searching for a sign of her whereabouts.

"Damn. This is _really _bad timing."


	2. His New Stalker

_Apparently, this place has more supernatural beings than you'd think. Besides myself and Damon, there's also his brother and at least two other vampires. There is also a werewolf to be wary of, and I swear there's a witch, as well._

_Anyways, I told someone the story. Not the __whole_ _story, of course, just the short version. It wasn't Damon, after all. But I had to tell her. I don't know why, but I really wanted her to know. I guess I wanted her to understand __why_ _I'm doing this. I think I can trust her to not tell him, but she did warn me that she'd have to tell his brother. They've got some sort of pact between them, to never keep secrets. I guess that's sweet. But I wonder how long that'd last? As long as he doesn't find out yet, it's okay. Because as much as I want to pay my debt to him, I need to make sure he pays me first. There's no way I'd get money if I paid first._

WWW

"See you at the barbecue." Damon smirked and walked off, peach cobbler in hand.

"Does the whole silver thing actually work against werewolves? I mean, I've learned that most people get the wrong idea of vampires, who is to say that werewolves aren't in the same boat?"

Damon looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "Gotta admit, did not expect to see you so soon." He looked to the left, and saw Frances Lennon leaning on one of the posts, hands in her denim jacket.

"I told you, I'm gonna stalk you 'til I get my money." She nodded at the box in his hands. "You can pay for a peach cobbler? Surely, you have just a little bit of change left over. And you know," she continued, walking closer to him, "it doesn't even have to be all of it at once. Bit by bit is good with me, as long as I get it all in the end."

"Stay away from me," he said, walking through the doors.

"Not gonna happen, Blue Eyes." She followed him outside.

He glanced at her necklace. It was a dark red stone encased in iron, hanging on a simple iron chain. "Is that your daywear? How did you get it?"

She fingered the chain a bit. "It's a recent thing. Got it in, I think, the seventies. Met a witch back then, who happened to like me. She decided to help me out."

"The seventies?"

"Yeah, lemme tell you," she said is a light voice, "the thirty years before that? Not as much fun as now."

"Still not my problem."

Lennon hissed in a breath through her teeth. "Kinda should be, though, considering you _are _the one that turned me into this."

"Yeah, I have no recollection of doing that."

"Maybe I'll tell you how it all went down."

He paused. And looked at her. "I don't believe you."

She shrugged. "I keep my promises. I did in life, why should I stop in death?"

He stepped closer to her. "And all I have to do, for this little story, is pay one hundred fifty?"

"Yep," she replied, popping the 'p.'

"Yeah, not worth it."

"Psh, your loss. It's a pretty interesting story." She began walking backwards, still looking at his face. "This whole undead thing? It wasn't easy at first. I had to learn as I went along."

He shrugged. "I did the same thing."

"Really?" She looked at him incredulously. "'Cause, from what I've been gathering over the past year, you had a somewhat mentor before you died. Some broad told you everything beforehand, so it couldn't have been _that_ difficult to figure things out."

"You seem to know a lot about me," he said, eyes narrowing. "Not sure if that's a good thing. For either of us."

She shrugged, her face a mask of indifference. "Meh. It's not a whole lot. After I started searching for you, it didn't take much to get others to tell me what they knew of you. You're kinda popular, did you know that? In 1864, some vamp chick was playing you and your brother, and then she died. And then you died. Not a whole lot," she reiterated.

Damon stared at her with a stony face, before smirking and laughing a bit. But it all went away as he said, "Yeah, you need to get your facts straightened out."

"No, I don't," she interrupted. "I just needed to find you, to get my one fifty. Don't need to know your history for that."

He tilted his head a bit. "You not exactly a curious sort, are you?"

She smiled. "In my old profession, getting too curious usually got you killed. Old survival habits die hard."

"Right. Well then. I'm going to go. And you're not gonna follow me."

"Does that mean you're gonna pay me, right now?"

"No chance in hell."

"Then just call me your new shadow. Or creepy stalker, I'm not picky."

She walked back into the Mystic Grill. Damon frowned. Maybe he should tell Stefan there's a new vampire in town.

WWW

Jenna was fuming. Why, just _why, _did she agree to allow Damon to come? The guy was an asshole. And he really needed to leave Elena alone. That was just sick.

The doorbell rang, which was weird, because all the guests were here. She opened the door to a young woman, blonde and a little taller than herself. Stranger knocking on her door. What fun.

"Hey, are you Jenna Sommers?"

"That's me. Can I help you?"

"I'm sorry for intruding like this, but I'm looking for Damon Salvatore. I was told I could find him here."

Jenna frowned. "What do you want from _him?_" Was she an ex? She looked like she could be an ex. Maybe this was a good thing, a little drama is just what he deserves, but she did not want her little get together to be a bummer, or a fighting arena.

"Money."

Jenna blinked. "Pardon?"

The stranger shrugged. "He owes me money, and I've traveled a long way to get it."

"Really, where you from?"

She laughed. "Chicago. I know, I know, it's creepy and obsessive, but my family needs the dough. And he's not giving it up."

Jenna laughed mirthlessly. "Yeah, he's an asshole."

"You don't like him?"

"Not at all," Jenna replied. "He's only here cuz my boyfriend is like his only friend, or something."

"Huh. Go fig he'd only one friend," was the response. "Oh, I'm Frances, by the way." She held out her hand. Jenna took it.

"Jenna, but you already knew that."

"Yeah, small town," Frances laughed.

"Well, come on in, and the jerk was in the kitchen last I saw."

"Thanks, Jenna, it was nice meeting you."

"Likewise. Just don't cause a scene? It would be a real party downer."

And she stepped over the threshold. "Oh, I'll be discreet. I'm good at that."

WWW

Damon groaned. "Really?" he asked, as Lennon strutted over to him. "Who let you in?"

"Jenna. She's like my best friend now," she joked. "Once we both agreed that you were an asshole, we just... _bonded_, you know?"

Elena walked into the kitchen. "Um, hey," she said in a cautious voice.

Lennon turned around with a smile. "Hi, you must be Elena, Jenna's niece, right?"

"Yeah, how do you know my aunt?"

"Oh, I don't. We just met today. Damon, on the other hand, he and I go _way _back."

Elena's eyes narrowed. "How far back, exactly?"

The blonde waved a hand. "Far enough, sweetie. Don't worry about the details. I'll be outta here as soon as Blue Eyes and I are done here."

"Damon?" Elena's voice was low and and full of worry.

Damon answered her unspoken question. "Yes, Elena, she is a vampire."

Lennon snapped her head toward him, then back at the Gilbert girl. She laughed breathily. "Oh. You know about us." She sighed with relief. "That is, that's just fantastic, 'cause I really hate lying." She grinned amiably at the girl in the doorway, and held out her hand. "I'm Frances."

Elena didn't take her hand, she just stared at the new threat to her family with a face of distrust.

"Ah." She took her hand back. "You don't like vampires that much?"

"I haven't had the best experiences with them, no," Elena replied, crossing her arms. "So, when I find a new one, _in my house_, I get a little upset."

"Oh, no, no, no, no, don't worry," Lennon hurriedly said. "I'm not here to hurt you, or anyone, really. I'm just here until Blue Eyes over there gives me what he owes me. Then I'll give him what I owe."

Damon frowned. "See, that kinda sounds like you want to hurt _me_," he said.

Lennon smirked, and turned to him. "I suppose it kinda does, doesn't it? However, from what I've learned about you, most people wouldn't really care."

Alaric came into the room. "Um, am I interrupting anything?" he asked, glancing over Lennon curiously.

"No, no," Damon replied. "Just being threatened by the new vampire in town."

Rick's eyes suddenly grew hard. "Oh? So same old, same old?"

Lennon laughed. "Wow, okay, so, um, how many people actually know? Is everyone in this house aware of all the vampires in town?"

"No," Elena answered. "My aunt doesn't know, and she won't."

"Mason Lockwood also doesn't know, and it'd be a _really_ bad idea to let him find out," Damon warned.

"Got it," Lennon replied, but Damon could not tell if she was being serious or not. "So, Elena, is it alright if I just stick around? Just until that guy pays up?"

"What did he do?" Alaric asked.

Damon intervened. "That's not important. But, Elena, don't you think that a party crasher isn't the best thing to have around right now?"

Elena looked at him. "Actually, I'm curious." She turned to Frances. "What _did_ he do?"

"Oh, he just owes me money." Frances shrugged. "He didn't pay me, and I had to go through hell for that." She turned to Damon. "Just give the one fifty, and after _my_ debt is paid, I'll leave."

"One fifty?" Rick asked. "As in one _hundred_ and fifty dollars?"

"Yep," she replied. "It was a lot of money back then."

"Back when?" Elena asked.

"In 1945. When I was killed."

Elena looked at Damon. "You... killed her?"

Damon threw his hands in the air. "For God's sake, Elena, this was sixty-five years ago! I killed a lot of people before and since then!"

"I never said that he was the one who killed me," Lennon intervened. Everyone's heads snapped toward her. "Just that I was killed. Wow, you got quite the rep, dontcha?"

Elena shook her head a bit. "Okay, I'm confused."

"That's fine, hon," Lennon replied. "No one really needs to know anyway. But if Blue Eyes wants to know, then all he has to do, is pay up."

"So, I'll pay, you give me your sad, pathetic life story, then you'll kill me?" Damon shook his head. "Yeah, don't really see that happening."

"Rick!" Jenna's voice called out. "What's taking you all so long?"

Alaric shook his head. "Oh, right, we were gonna play a few games, any of you wanna join?"

Damon looked through the doorway, staring at Mason Lockwood. "Yeah, you know what? I'll join."

"Pass," Elena stated.

"Same," said Lennon. "You and I can use this time to get to know one another." She smiled at Elena.

"My necklace has vervain in it, so don't try anything funny," she warned.

Lennon blinked. "Is that supposed to mean something?"

Elena looked at her curiously. "You don't know what vervain is?"

"Should I?"

Rick jerked his head to the living room. "Come on, Damon, let's go. I think they'll be fine."

As Damon and Alaric left the room, Elena asked, "How long have you been a vampire, again?"

"Uh... sixty-five years. But it's been a 'learn as you go' kind of experience."

"How can you not know what vervain is?"

"Well, what is it? Is it like a poison?"

"Yeah, to vampires. It also prevents compulsion."

Frances looked thoughtful. "Huh. Good to know."

"What else do you know about vampires?"

"Uh, sunlight kills, unless you know a good witch," she held up her necklace, "and I'm pretty sure the stake to the heart thing is true, though I haven't been rather keen to test it out. Human blood is _delicious_, but it's not completely necessary to kill, thank goodness. I've been avoiding garlic this whole time, which sucks more than I do, 'cause I love it, but I learned quickly that the running water thing is false. And I still go to Church every Sunday, so I know holy water and crucifixes are okay. Um, reflection thing is false, but I've been avoiding photographs, as well, so I'm not entirely certain if they work on us or not. We have superhuman speed, strength, and senses. And we can mind control."

"Compulsion," Elena corrected. "That's what it's called."

"Hmm, yeah that's less of a mouthful."

"How did you get like this?" Elena asked. "Didn't Damon turn you? Isn't that why you want revenge?"

Frances glanced at the living room. "Let's go for a walk. I'll tell you anything you wanna know, but I don't want any eavesdroppers."

Elena looked at her suspiciously. Frances sighed.

"Look, I know we only just met, but I really don't want to hurt anybody. Believe me, Damon's the only one I really wanna deal with, and I think once you hear the story, you'll understand why. But I don't want him to hear it, not until he gives me my money."

Elena looked into the stranger's eyes, searching for a hint of insincerity. "Okay. I'll trust you. Don't make me regret it."

Lennon smiled. "Wouldn't dream of it."

WWW

"Wow." Elena opened the kitchen door and let the older woman in.

"Yeah," Frances said, with a small smile.

"That's, um...okay."

"So, you see why I want to do it, now, right?"

"No, not really," the adopted Gilbert admitted as she grabbed Damon's pie box. "But, I guess I understand why you think so."

"How is that a wolf?" Jenna shrieked from the living room.

Damon came in with a saunter and a smirk. "Aunt Jenna is getting tipsy," he informed the room.

Frances rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's what happens when you keep handing her a steady stream of alcohol," she said.

"Speaking of," Elena said, "would you quit that?"

"I want her to like me," Damon defended.

"Not sure if that's the way to do it," Frances whispered.

"How is 'Operation Lockwood?'" Elena asked.

Damon leaned close to her ear, causing her to jump slightly when he said, "He's my new BFF."

"There you are," Jenna cried, giving her niece a quick hug. "Isn't this fun?"

"Yes!" Damon agreed. "Thank you so much for inviting me!"

"Hmm, did I have a choice?" Jenna asked, good attitude slightly diminished.

Damon smiled. "I know what you must think of me," he began.

"No, you don't," Jenna interrupted. "You've never dated you, I have dated many you's." She have him a hard look.

"Well, I'm a work in progress."

Elena sighed as she handed Jenna a cake knife from a set. Damon glanced over at it. "Ooh. These are fancy."

"Thanks,"Jenna answered, not looking at him. "My mother's silver set."

Elena looked up, and glanced at Damon. Frances looked at them both, and shook her head. She stood up and walked over to the living room.

"Oh, hey, you're new," Caroline piped up from the couch. "I'm Caroline Forbes, a friend of Elena's. And you would be...?"

"Frances Lennon, friend of Damon's."

"Oh, so he does have friends?" the younger blonde asked.

"Oh, only as Damon can. He and I go back, but I'll admit, it's been years since I last saw him." She held out her hand, and Caroline cautiously took it. The two of them grasped the other's hand with impressive strength, signaling to each other their true nature.

The secret werewolf stood up from the couch. "Mason Lockwood," he said, holding out his own hand.

Frances took it with a smile. "The guest of honor, I gather?"

He shrugged. "If you want to call me that, I wouldn't object."

"Haha, I'd bet. Well, Jenna is starting to serve the pie, so I say, we get our asses to the table and feast!"

"Sounds good to me, I'll be right there."

Caroline shook her head. "I think I'll pass. I ate a lot already."

As soon as Jenna finished cutting the pie, Damon took it over to the table.

"Mason, why don't you start us off?" He handed the plate over to him, silver handle pointed towards him.

Mason looked at it, then glanced up at the older Salvatore. "Don't mind if I do." He spun the pie around, and picked up a piece with his bare hands. Everyone looked at him, surprised. He laughed, "My apologies, I'm an animal."

Alaric piped up, "So, Mason, you and Jenna never dated?"

"Nope," was the reply. "She was always stuck in Logan Fell Land."

Jenna groaned. "My first mistake. Mason was a catch, he had girls lining up."

"Really?" Damon said, sounding surprised. "I always had you pegged for a lone wolf."

Mason smirked at him. "Oh, I'm sure I wasn't half the lady killer you were."

Frances laughed. "I'd drink to that."

"I got a better idea," Mason supplied. "To new friends."

The four adults smiled as they clinked their beer bottles with one another's.

"Jenna, Caroline and I are gonna go out," Elena said, before quickly escaping out the front door.

Jenna blinked. "Okay, then. Be safe. Come home soon. Thanks for the warning."

About an hour later, Damon and Frances were in the kitchen, doing dishes.

"So, you're not at all curious?" Lennon asked. "You don't remember me, but you don't want to hear how I know you?"

"Nope. Not at all."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I think you're lying."

"Do you, now?"

"I think you're just _dying_ to know, but don't wanna pay me, so you're waiting for me to crack first." She laughed. "Well, you're gonna have a long wait, Blue Eyes. I was really stubborn in life, and I learned I am even more so in death. Besides, Elena agrees with me that you should just pay up."

Damon looked up from the glass he was drying. "You told Elena?"

"Mm-hmm."

"That was a mistake," he smirked. "She's bound to tell her boyfriend, and that just so happens to be my brother. Now I'll definitely find out."

She shrugged. "If you think so."

Mason came in at that moment, saying, "Jenna just brought out the Guitar Hero. Think it might be time to bail."

"Well," Damon began, "I happen to like Guitar Hero, so, you, my friend, are just barking up the wrong tree."

Frances groaned.

Mason sighed. "Okay, enough with the innuendos. You win, you're hilarious."

"Yeah, and seriously, you're just getting way too painful to listen to," Lennon added.

Damon brought a hand to his heart. "Ouch, that hurt."

Mason frowned. "Come on, man. You don't think I know what this barbecue is about?"

Damon's face got serious as he stepped closer to the Lockwood. "How do you know about me? Your brother was completely clueless."

"It doesn't matter," Mason insisted. "I'm not your enemy, Damon."

"You tried to kill my brother," the vampire pointed out.

"Ooh." Lennon groaned. "Yeah. That'd put a damper on any alliance."

"That was a mistake," Mason defended. "There was some confusion, I couldn't chain myself up in time. I have no control once I shift."

"What, no obedience school?" Damon asked.

The female vampire rolled her eyes.

"I'm serious," said Mason. "Let's not spark some age old feud that doesn't apply to us."

"Do you really expect me to believe that you're here in Mystic Falls planting peach trees?"

Mason looked grim. "I lost brother. My nephew lost his father. I'm just here for my family. Let's be above this." He held out his hand.

After looking at it for a while, Damon took it. Lockwood smiled, and walked away. Frances caught her prey eyeing the silver knife set.

"You're gonna try to stick him, anyway, arencha?"

"Duh."

He grabbed a knife and hid it under his shirt.

"No more takers for drinks at the Grill?" Mason asked at the door. When no one accepted, he added, "Oh, come on, it's like I'm with a bunch of adults here."

Jenna smiled. "I prefer the term 'role model.'"

"Okay, well thanks for having me," he said, reaching over to give his friend a hug. "It was awesome. Alaric, catch that game next week?"

"Yeah, I look forward to it," replied the history teacher, giving Mason a firm handshake.

Frances stepped up. "Well, I'm gonna go crash somewhere. Jenna, it was a pleasure meeting you. I hope we can meet up again sometime. Alaric, nice meeting you, as well." Rick gave her a nod. "Mason, I think we'll cross paths soon enough."

"I'm sure we will," he replied. "After all, it's a small town."

"Night, all!" Frances cried as she stepped outside.

"You know, I should probably head out, too," Damon called, walking out of the kitchen. Mason followed Lennon out the door. "Jenna," Damon said, taking her hand and kissing it. "You are a wonderful hostess."

"And you're a terrible artist," she retorted.

"Is that the only thing that makes me terrible?" he asked.

Jenna gave him a thoughtful look. "I'm still deciding."

"Good enough for me!" Damon celebrated. "Alaric, let's _not _catch that game next week." And he slipped out the door.

"It'd be a mistake," Frances said, in a sing-song voice, from her seat on the porch.

"What would?" Damon asked.

"Just leave him alone, okay? I think he was telling the truth when he said that trying to kill your brother was an accident. Besides, is it so hard to believe that he's here for family?"

"Look. The bite of a werewolf is fatal to people like us," Damon explained. "I'm just making sure that we're all safe here."

"And I'm saying you're just going to make things worse," Frances warned as she stood up. "You've been baiting him all day, and I'm surprised that he actually wants to be above the feud. Just," she paused a bit, "don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Take his offer as it is."

Damon looked at her. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were worried about me."

She shrugged. "How am I gonna get paid if you get yourself killed, huh?"

He eyed her. There was something underlying this all. And he intended to find out what.

"See ya around, creepy stalker."

After he took care of the werewolf problem.

WWW

Frances was walking toward the Grill with the full intent of downing multiple glasses of whiskey. Telling Elena the truth was relieving, but the fact that Damon still would not listen to her really hacked her off. True, she could easily pay off her debt without having him pay, and she could tell the story afterwards. But, really, it was a matter of principle to her. She felt she owed it to her family to see to their needs first. She was always like that: putting family over everything.

She sighed, and looked up at the stars and the waning moon. "For family, I can do anything. For family, I _will_ do anything."

"Then why so pouty?" she heard a familiar voice say.

Looking ahead, she saw Elena walking after a ticked off Damon. Why did she curl her hair? And… was she wearing different clothes? Did Elena have a twin sister? She thought there was just her younger brother.

"I tried to kill a werewolf, I failed," Damon replied. "Now, I feel like I'm not living to my best self."

Frances was about to go and yell at him, but something in her gut told her to avoid this curly-haired Elena. Survival instincts kicking in? Most definitely.

"Well, werewolves aren't easy prey," the Not-Elena told him.

Damon stopped in the street and turned to her. "What do you know about werewolves?"

She smiled. "Why don't you ask your brother?"

Frances was not a curious person. Curiosity killed way more than just the cat, as was proven time and time again. But the way this broad talked to him and about the younger Salvatore sounded… dominating. Like she owned the both of them for a really long time.

And she did not like that at all.

The broad continued, in a more serious tone, "Don't try to be the hero, Damon. You'll end up dead."

"Been there, done that," Damon replied. "At least this time, it'll be worth it." And he strode off, heading in Lennon's direction.

Frances quickly made herself scarce; she _really_ did not want the Not-Elena to see her.

She waited for Damon to walk by before she announced her presence.

"Does Elena have a twin sister? 'Cause, I am certain that's not her."

Damon continued walking, refusing to look at her. She quickly caught up.

"Okay, fine, don't tell me. I'll just avoid Curly Elena," she decided aloud. "She feels wrong."

Damon barked out a laugh. "You've no idea."

"So, you tried to kill Mason with the silver?" she asked.

"Don't remind me," he snapped.

"I tried to tell you," she reminded.

"Yeah, shut it."

There was a moment of silence before she asked, "How pissed was he?"

"Oh, he staked me as an enemy," was the nonchalant reply.

"Well, as long as it's not with wood."

Damon stopped walking. "That… was _horrible._"

Frances winced. "Yeah, that was… Hey, you know what would make it better?"

Damon eyed her suspiciously, before groaning and walking off again.

"Oup! I think he's guessed it!" she giggled. "Come on, Blue, eventually, you're gonna get sick of me shadowing you and bringing it up and you'll pay me just to get me to leave. You might as well just save us both the time and give it to me now."

"What would you even do with the money anyway?" he asked.

"Hey, now," she started, "that's for me to know, and for you to discover as I'm doing it. It's improper to ask what we do with the money after the job is done anyway."

"That reminds me," Damon asked, with a glint in his eye, "do you still work as a-?"

"No," Frances interrupted firmly. "The clients became too much of a temptation. Too many times did I wake up the next morning to a corpse. I just told them to give me the money, then pretended that they just had the most amazing sex ever."

"So, how long has it been since you…?"

Frances glared at him. "If this is your way to ask me if I want to sleep with you, _forget it_. You've stiffed me once, no way in hell I'm letting you get a freebie again. Not until you pay me for the last time."

"Pft," Damon scoffed. "Like _you're_ my only option."

"You're disgusting."

"Said the call girl."

"Screw you, Damon. Oh, wait, I did. And you owe me for it."

"I still don't see why I need to pay _now._ Surely the… statute of limitations has passed."

Frances' face contorted with conflict. "Look, I want to tell you why it's important to me you pay me, but that would involve me telling you why it's important for me to pay _you_ back. And I want to make sure _I'm_ paid before that happens."

"And that's another thing," Damon said. "What makes you think I'd be willing to hand you money, which seems to be the trigger for a gun you've got pointed at me?"

She looked at him incredulously. "You don't honestly think that I even _can_ kill you, do you?"

He pretended to think. "No."

"Well, then what have you got to lose?" she asked, throwing her hands in the air. "Besides the one fifty you owe me."

Damon eyed her some more. "You _don't_ want to kill me, do you?" he stated rather than asked. "Then what is this about a debt you owe me?"

"Repay yours, and then I'll tell you."

And she disappeared. Damon sighed again.

"I think I'll kill her. Problem solved."


	3. Secrets Revealed, Even Hers?

_Wow. Today was… crazy. Lockwood ended up being a dick, after all. And the sheriff knows about four of the vampires in her town. I think her daughter's freakin' out. And I talked to Abby today. ...She's not getting better. Not at all. Time's running fast for her, so I gave Damon the offer. And I think he's taking it._

WWW

Damon stared at his brother's sleeping form. Ugh, that sounded creepy. But, that was what he was doing. He was debating on whether he should wake him up or not.

Eh, what the hell?

He reached over and flicked Stefan on the forehead. Stefan groaned and awoke, pushing his older brother's hand away.

"Damon? What are you…?"

Damon interrupted, "We've got another vampire chick in town."

Stefan was instantly awake. "What? Who? From the tomb?"

Damon waved away his worries. "No, no, she's a newbie. I just thought you should know, and I wasn't sure if Elena had told you before your little break up. How's that going for you, bee tee double-you?"

His younger brother's face instantly grew more, if possible, somber. "It had to be done. This will protect her."

Damon refrained from rolling his eyes. He was not fooled. But, he understood the why, so he did not mention it. Instead, he said, "This new vamp has been shadowing me for a few days now. She's begging me for money, and I don't think I should give it."

Stefan looked confused. "Why is she asking you for money?"

Damon moved his head in a side-to-side motion. "I _may _have met her in a gentleman's club, and…"

The younger Salvatore deadpanned, "Seriously? You hired a hooker?"

Damon threw his hands in the air. "That's her story, anyway. I, honestly, don't remember every woman I fed on within the last century and a half."

"Did you kill her?"

"I don't think so," Damon cautiously replied. "And she might have already said that I didn't, but I'm not sure."

"Wow, Damon."

"Shut up. The question is, 'what do we do about her?'"

Stefan threw his legs out of the bed. "You should pay her, and then she'll leave, right?" he asked as he walked to his dresser.

Damon groaned. "Except she's asking for money from 1945. And I'm still not sure she's telling the truth."

"Well, find out, and then deal with it."

"That's the problem. She refuses to tell me the juicy details of her transition until I've paid her. Sounds like a scam to me."

Stefan paused to throw a shirt on. "So, we've got a possible con-vampire, a definite werewolf, a maybe werewolf, and a definite psychopathic vampire on our tails. Wow, do you know how to pick 'em."

"She also says that there's a debt _she_ owes _me_," Damon added. "And that's what I don't get, because I always remember when someone owes me. It gets a lot of favors taken care of."

"Well," Stefan began, "pay her, then. And we'll see how it goes."

"Ugh, really?" Damon whined. "You're not at all worried that her debt is a revenge thing?"

Stefan smiled. "You can handle things just fine, I'm sure. Think she'll be at the picnic today?"

"Probably, since I'm going."

"Then, maybe I'll talk to her then."

"I'm sure you'll forgive me if I don't introduce you."

WWW

Mason pulled up in the new park in his jeep. His sister-in-law was giving a speech, kids were laughing and playing, people were chatting. When he opened his door, Miss Lennon was waiting for him.

He scoffed. "Are you here to stick a knife in me, too?"

She sighed with a smile of disbelief. "Nope, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I'm guessing not, though."

"What, you didn't put him up to it?" he asked, walking to the back of his car.

"No, I actually tried to talk him out of it," she replied, following him. "What he did was beyond bogus, especially after you tried to be so above it. I just wanted to ask, please don't mind him. He's only looking out for his own. Or, he thinks is anyway."

"Why do _you_ care?"

She paused. "I've got business with him, and if you kill him, I can't finish it."

"He stabbed me in the chest," he stated in a hard voice.

"And I understand why that would get him on your bad side," she said calmly. "I'm sure he won't do it again." She glanced over his shoulder. "And, that's his brother over there. On his way here. Probably to apologize. I'm gonna go now. Just, think about it, please?"

She walked off as quickly as humanly possible. And on the way, she bumped into Damon.

"Now, how did I know you'd be here?" he asked.

"Because you're not an idiot," she replied. "I think. I'm not completely sure, since you _did_ get on the bad side of a werewolf."

"My brother's making nice," Damon pointed out.

"Yeah, because he's bound to listen to the younger brother of the guy who stabbed him."

"What, and you think he'll listen to you?"

She shook her head. "Probably not. But who's fault is that?"

Damon looked at her, studying. "How old are you?"

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Or rather, how old were you when you died? Chalk it up to trying to remember you," Damon pushed.

"You should never ask a lady their age," she said with a smile. "They'll only lie anyway."

"Come on, humor me," he said, charmingly.

She looked at him. "In a new area, I tell people I'm twenty-two, but I was born in 1923. And I continue upping my age, until I'm 'thirty.' I usually leave the area around that point, if I hadn't already. And that's all I'm going to tell you about me. Until you pay me, consider me a mystery." She glanced behind her, and saw Stefan and Mason shake hands. "Hm, maybe he did make nice after all." She began walking away. "But, I wouldn't count on it."

WWW

A while later, Frances was on the roof of a red car. She did not know to whom it belonged, but no one was calling her off. She was just lying there, enjoying the sun. After over thirty years without it, she decided to never take it for granted again. She closed her eyes, and honed her listening skills. Damon was talking to Sheriff Forbes, who sounded upset. She claimed that she and her daughter had a fight, which Caroline confirmed to Elena, but Lennon was skeptical. She had seen enough fights between parents and their children to know that this was not as bad as that.

Caroline and Elena were painting posts a little aways. And Elena seemed to be fighting with Stefan, Damon's brother.

"I'm gonna go talk to him," Elena decided, putting down her paintbrush.

"No, Elena," Caroline protested, "I think it's a bad idea."

Elena ignored the blonde, and as she left, Damon took her place.

"What's her problem?" he asked.

"Don't worry about it," Caroline answered.

"Why are you being such a bitch to your mom?"

"Don't worry about it." She returned to her painting.

"Do you still care about Katherine?" Elena demanded as she approached Stefan.

Stefan shook his head. "Don't do this, don't turn this into something it's not."

"So this is not up for discussion, is that what you're saying?" Elena asked, crossing her arms.

"No, I'm saying that this isn't up for discussion right now, 'cause we have ears on us."

Frances snickered as she watched through her lashes Damon and Caroline immediately pretend that they had not been eavesdropping.

Elena sighed. "Okay, when?"

"I don't know," was the brief reply.

"I _saw_ her, Stefan. It's like we're the same person." Oh, the Not-Elena. Katherine, was it? "How can you hate her and be in love with me?"

Wait, what? Is this Katherine an ex? Wow, that was… that was just messed up.

"You're reaching," Stefan stated. "I'm not… I'm not Damon."

"How about we don't bring Damon into this right now?"

So, did Blue Eyes date Katherine as well…? Oh. Wait. Vampire chick, both brothers dated her, and she looks like Elena? Suddenly, the year 1864 seemed a lot more clear.

"You know what," Stefa said softly, "I can't… I can't do this anymore, Elena."

Elena nodded as she said, "Fine, Stefan. Whatever." And she headed back to Caroline.

"Relationships are about communication," Damon muttered to Caroline.

Agreed, Frances thought. That sounded a bit forced at the end.

"Do you always listen to couples' fights?" a voice asked.

Frances looked up and saw the younger Salvatore standing next to the car.

"Nah," she replied, stretching, "but it was a lot more interesting than what Madame Lockwood was talking about. Something about potato salad."

"I don't think we've met. I'm Stefan." He held out his hand.

"Yes, Damon's younger, more gentle and peaceful brother." She sat up, and took his hand. "Frances Lennon."

"Just what are you doing in town, Frances?"

"What, Blue Eyes didn't tell you?" She slipped off the car. "He owes me money, and I owe him something."

"What, exactly, do you owe him?"

She smiled. "Come on, kid," she laughed. "There's no way I'm telling you. Not when he's hanging on to every word, and definitely not while I'm certain that you're only going to tell him. You know, what? Ask your girlfriend, when you guys are alone again." She walked off, towards the woods, pulling out a cell phone.

WWW

"Hey, Abby, how's she doing?" Frances asked.

"She's better, so she says," came the reply over the phone. "She's been asking for her sister, though. To the doctors."

Frances laughed. "Wow, she's really playing the dementia part, is she?"

There was a pause on the other end. "Sis, what if they try to put Mom down?"

Her face turned grim. "Then I'll rip their throats out."

"That's not funny."  
"Do I _sound _like I'm joking? Abigail, that would be murder, and doctors wouldn't do that. Besides, she's only pretending."  
"But they don't know that! And it's not like she isn't really sick! She's seventy-six for crying out loud, and all those issues from the night that-"

"I'm well aware of her situation, Abby," Frances interrupted. "But she's tough. She'll be fine."

"Sis, I'm not so sure about that. She says she's fine, but she's waning more every day."

Frances was silent a moment.

Abby continued, "You know, I think that she really does want to see you. It's been a year, after all. Did you find him, yet?"

"Yeah, I found him."

"And is it taken care of?"

"Not yet."

"Oh, come on! How long does it take to just-"

"Don't worry about it, sweetie," Frances interrupted. "Look, next time you see her, tell Meggie I love her, and I'll see her soon. Okay?"

"Fine, fine." A crash came on the other end. "Darn it, Stevie! What was that? I gotta go. Talk to you later?"

"Of course. Love you."

"All right, love you, too, Aunt Sis," said Abigail McQueen nee Feld.

Frances sighed as she hung up. "Soon, Meggie. Our debt will be paid soon. Just hold on a while longer. Okay, little sis?"

Gunshots rang through the air.

"Shit, what was that?"

She ran off toward the sound.

She came across a clearing, and was soon joined by Caroline and Elena.

"What's going on?" Frances demanded. "What were those shots?"

"Damon and Stefan," Caroline whispered. "They've been here." She bent over and inspected a plant. She pulled out her fingers to reveal blood.

"What are you doing here?"

The three ladies spun around to see Mason.

"Have you seen Stefan?" Elena asked.

"Yeah, Elena, I've seen him. Seen Damon, too," he added, looking at Frances.

"Well, where are they?" the Gilbert girl asked.

"You don't need me for that," he said. "I'll let your friends sniff them out. The only reason I didn't turn _you_ in," he nodded at Frances, "is 'cause I'm giving you a chance to get out of town. You haven't been here long. Keep it that way." Then he looked at Caroline. "And does your mother know what you are? I'm happy to tell her."

Caroline took a step towards him. But he grabbed Elena and held her neck in his arms. "Don't be stupid," he warned. "Necks snap easy around here."

"I can take you," Caroline said.

"We both can," Frances added, stepping up next to her, glaring at the were-wolf.

"You wanna bet?" Mason taunted.

Caroline set her face. "Yeah, I do." She ran for him, shoving him away from Elena, and up against a tree. "Told ya." She kneed him in the stomach and pushed him to the ground.

When she took a few steps back, Frances took her spot. "I'm much older. And much stronger." She kicked him in the side, sending him flying into another tree. "And I asked so nicely to leave him alone."

"Come on," Caroline ordered, leading the way to the old Lockwood Plantation.

Frances looked at the younger blonde. "_Does_ your mother know?"

"Of course not," she cried. "Are you saying yours does?"

"Sweetheart, my mother was dead years before I turned," was the reply. "But everyone else in my family is aware."

Caroline halted. "And they're cool with it? No compulsion necessary?"

Frances moved her head from side to side. "Eh, my older brother's line, was a little wary at first, but that's understandable. Joey didn't quite appreciate what I had done to turn. He loosened up a bit, but only much later, so his kids and theirs are a bit more… cautious around me than Mikey's and Meggie's are. Except Charlie, one of Joey's grandkids; he's cool, he loves me. And, of course, I have to mind control - excuse me, _compel -_ the ones who marry into the family. But once it wears off, I don't do it again, 'cause they know that I'd _never_ try to hurt anyone in my family."

Caroline was confused. "He didn't appreciate…? I'm sorry, what?"

Frances sighed. "Maybe Elena will tell you the why and how later, but right now, let's just get on with the rescue."

They quickly arrived at the ruins, and heard another gunshot.

"What is that?" Elena cried fearfully.

"They're gonna kill them," Frances whispered.

"My mom," Caroline whimpered.

Frances rushed to the stairs, and Elena would have followed, if Caroline did not grab her arm.

"She'll find out about me!" she cried.

"Then stay there, and I'll take care of it," Frances said.

"Please don't hurt her!"

Frances halted. She turned around with a look of disbelief and insult. "What kind of a monster do you think I am to hurt a _mother?_"

She ran down the stairs. When she reached the dungeons, three guns were aimed at her.

"Whoa. Okay, did _not _think this through."

"Who are you?" Forbes demanded.

"I'm… no one. Just, don't kill them, please?" Frances asked. "I need Damon. He- he and I have to finish something. It is _really _important that-"

"She's one of the them!" one the deputies cried.

At the same time, Sheriff Forbes shot her four times in the chest. She went down with a cry of pain. A deputy came and shoved a needle in her side, injecting her with something that poured fire into her blood.

"Let's do this," Forbes said. "Stake in the heart to each, and then burn the bodies."

The sound of clanging metal had three heads spinning back to the entrance.

"Check it out," the sheriff ordered a deputy.

When he reached the door and swung it open, a plank hit him on the head. Elena came rushing out.

"Elena, what are you doing?"

"You can't kill them, I won't let you!"

The deputy came back, and dragged the Gilbert to the room. Frances struggled to breathe as she lay useless on the floor. A door slammed and a rush of wind followed.  
"What was that?" a deputy asked.

Forbes looked at Elena. "Who else is with you?"

Something moved at the far end of the room.

"What was that?" the deputy asked, clearly terrified.

Caroline sprinted to him, ripping at his throat. The deputy gave a scream of agony, and the other one tried to shoot Caroline. However, she hid behind his co-worker, and used him as a meat shield.

Once the live one was out of bullets, Caroline threw the corpse down, and punched his lights out.

Sheriff Forbes looked on in horror as her daughter, mouth covered in blood, stepped into the light.

"Hi, Mom."

WWW

About ten minutes later, the Forbes women were sitting far apart from and not looking at each other, Elena was with a gasping Stefan, and Damon and Frances were drinking from the deputies.

Damon crawled over to his brother. "You need to drink some deputy blood."

"No," Stefan gasped. "I'm gonna be fine. It's just… gonna take a bit longer."

"Damon's right, you know," Caroline supplied. "If there was ever a time to break your diet…"

"He said he didn't want it, okay?" Elena all but snapped.

'_I knew they weren't really fighting,'_ thought Frances, as she used her meal's necktie to wipe her chin.

Damon groaned as he stood up. "This is a most unfortunate situation," he said, staggering. "Two deputies dead… and you." He turned to Forbes. "What am I gonna do with you?"

Forbes looked at him in fear.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" her daughter asked. The sheriff turned away. "Mom? Mom? Please!" she begged. "Look, I know that we don't get along, and you hate me... but I'm your daughter, and you'll do this for me, right?"

Forbes remained silent.

"Mom, _please._ He will kill you."

Damon nodded in confirmation.

Forbes brought her head up defiantly. "Then kill me."

"No!" her daughter cried.

"I can't take this," Forbes said, voice breaking.

Damon slowly walked over to her, and brought his face close to hers. "But you were going to drag it out so painfully." He snatched her shoulders.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no!"

"Damon, don't!"

"Damon, please!"

Frances rolled her eyes.

As did Damon. "Relax, guys, no one is killing anybody."

Obviously. Or it would not have been her shoulders he grabbed.

Damon looked at the sheriff. "You're my friend." He glanced at the bodies. "We gotta clean this up."

WWW

"Hey, Stefan didn't drink the people blood," Damon told Elena. "If you were curious. But he needs to, and deep down, you know that." He watched as Elena debated with herself before finally heading upstairs to the library.

He walked over to the front door, and opened it to see his little stalker waiting on the porch. She had a cell phone in her hand.

"Well, thank you for not barging in. We get too many unwelcome visitors." He opened the door wide for her, silently inviting her inside.

However, she remained where she was.  
"I just got off the phone with my niece," she said, shaking her cell a bit.

Damon moved his eyes back and forth, in his '...and I care, why?' way.

"Her mother, my little sister," her voice broke a bit, "just had a stroke. She survived this one; the doctors caught her in time. But, they warned her, she might not be so lucky next time."

He straightened a bit, uncomfortable. "I'm sorry."

She scoffed. "She's seventy-six, Damon. She knows that her time is coming, and it's coming fast." She wiped at her eyes. "I came here for her, you know. She and I were talking at Mikey's funeral, and somehow, the conversation somehow ended up turning to the day I turned. And we both agreed, that was on you, because you fed me your blood." She stepped a bit closer to him. "But you don't even remember me. And that makes this whole thing much harder…. Meggie and I don't like being in debt. We had been there for far too long. And, we feel a debt to you. We both agreed that I should pay you back."

"I'm still not seeing the why," Damon said.

She looked at him in the eye. "I'm not scamming you."

"Beg your pardon?"

She looked at her feet. "I realize that I'm a bit of an inconvenience at this moment, and I'm probably annoying the hell outta you, but… I'm being sincere." She looked back up at him. "I'm not sure if Meghan will survive for much longer and I don't want her to die feeling like she's still in debt. There will be no regrets for her when she passes. I promised her. So, do you want to know? What my debt to you is? 'Cause, now, I'm willing to tell for free."

Damon looked at her. "Come on in."


	4. Her Debt

Frances was pacing in front of the fireplace in the Salvatore boarding house. She had just woken up on the couch across from Caroline's - who had already risen and was downstairs with her mother - and now, she was waiting for Damon to come down.

"I swear," she mumbled, "if he doesn't come down soon, I'm just gonna go barge in his room."

"Well, wouldn't want that, would we?" Damon called from the stairs. Frances spun around to face him. "I mean, considering your profession, and old habits dying hard."

"Shut up," she replied with a smile. Her face quickly grew somber, however. "I've waited 'til morning, like you wanted. Do you still want to hear the story?"

He walked over to his little bar, and poured two glasses of whiskey. "I'm all ears."

She reached over the sofa, and took one of the glasses. "Well, I need to explain certain things from before we met, so I guess I'll start from the very beginning."

WWW

Ten-year-old Frances sat on the porch of their little run-down house in Chicago, Illinois. She had a tiny boy with sandy hair and green eyes on her lap.

"Will Mama be all right?" Michael Anthony Seamus asked fearfully.

Frances smiled, and gave her six-year-old brother a reassuring hug. "She'll be fine, Mikey. She's only giving us a new brother or sister."

"Daddy thaid that babieth come from hothpitalth."

"Some babies do," Frances nodded. "But we got lucky. We don't have to go in, because Miss Emma can bring us the baby instead."

"When can we thee her?"

"Right now, honey," said a voice from behind them. The children spun around to see Miss Emma, smiling at them. "Your mama decided to give you a little sister to share."

Frances and Michael leapt to their feet, and was about to run inside, when Miss Emma raised a hand.

"Now listen, children," she said in a serious tone, "she's tired, and worn. And the baby's gonna sleep for a time. So when you go in, speak softly, and don't stay too long." She looked at the little boy. "Are we understood?"

The children nodded their heads. Then they slipped past the midwife and quickly walked down the hall to their parents' room. Their mother, Patricia Lennon, was lying on the bed, sweaty and looking exhausted, but smiling all the same.

"Hey, sweethearts," she whispered.

"Hi, Mama," Frances and Michael chorused softly. They tip-toed to the bed.

"Where'th the baby?"

Patricia pointed to a tiny bundle of blankets in her arms. "Right here, sweetie." She moved the fabric to reveal the squashed face of the most beautiful thing Frances had seen since Mikey's birth. "Say hello to Meghan Rosa Marie Lennon."

Frances laughed breathily. "Another long name," she jokingly complained. She smiled up at her mother. "She's gorgeous, Mama."

"Is your father home, yet?"

Frances shook her head. "Not yet, Mama. And Joey said that he'd be back late tonight. He's got the night shift at the bar again."

"That boy works too much," Patricia sighed.

"He wants to marry Jessica soon, Mama."

"I know, I know."

"Mama," Michael whispered, rubbing a finger up and down his baby sister's cheek. "Can I call her Meggie?"

His mother smiled. "That's a brilliant idea, baby."

"No, Mama." He shook his head firmly. "I'm not 'baby' anymore. I got a little thithter."

Miss Emma appeared in the doorway. "All right, children, your mama needs to sleep now."

Mikey gave his mother a hug, his new sister a kiss, and left the room. Frances was about to do the same, when Patricia called out, "Sis, I need to talk to you first."

Frances returned to her mother's bed, and knelt next to her. "Yes, Mama?"

Patricia smiled sadly, and brushed her eldest daughter's hair out of her eyes. "My sweet Frances, things are going to be very difficult around here, soon."

Frances frowned. "What do you mean, Mama? Father's finally got a job; he's coming 'round."

"I know, baby, but…" she trailed off. There was a pause before she continued, "Frances, when he loses this one, we're going to need your help. An almost eleven year old needs to take on responsibilities, okay?"

Frances nodded her head. "All right, Mama, I'll help in any way I can."

Her mother smiled. "For family, you can do anything."

"For family, I _will_ do anything," Frances replied, finishing the saying that her grandmother taught her.

WWW

On December 24th, 1934, Frances held her nine month old sister as she watched her mother's casket go deeper and deeper into the ground. Michael buried his head into his brother's shoulder. Joseph watched on grimly, his fiance, Jessica Flask, linking a comforting arm in his. Frances glanced at her father, Charles Lennon. He still had a look of shock. Well, it was not unbelieveable.

Pneumonia hit Patricia. It had started in November, but got worse over the weeks. In the end, she died in her sleep.

"Sis."

Frances snapped her head up. Everything was finished, and her father and brothers were already walking back home. Jessica had her hand on her shoulder, and pulled her away from the grave. "It's time to go. We don't want Meggie getting sick, too."

Frances held Meghan closer, as she walked with such a somber face, unbefitting a child her age. "I'm quitting school," she whispered.

Jessica looked startled. "What? Why? Why would you do that?"

"I gotta look after Mikey and Meggie."

"Sweetie, that's what I'm there for," her soon to be sister in law protested. "I'm okay with watching them. You need an education."

Frances thought for a bit. "No," she decided, looking up. "I need a job."

"Oh, Sis, your dad is looking for one."

Frances scoffed. "He's been 'looking' for seven months now. I've seen him at it." She looked up at the woman dead in the eye. "Having Joey pay for his drinks is _not_ job-hunting." She shook her head, and continued on. "I'll get a job, and everything will go to the house and Mikey's and Meggie's education."

"Sweetie," Jessica said, softly, "I'm sure Joey can help, all right? You don't have to do it."

"Jess, he wants to marry you. He wants to raise a family with you. But he can't do that if he's helping us."

"Frances. You're eleven. He's 22. He can do it, you can't."

"For family, I can do anything. For family, I _will_ do anything."

WWW

On June 11th, in 1938, Frances was arguing with her older brother in front of City Hall.

"No, Joey, you can't!" she was saying.

"Yes, I can, Frances! And you're going to accept it!"

"Joey, you've been helping us for so long, but now you've got a wife to support!" She pointed towards Jessica, who was waiting in the cab for her new husband. "Just accept it as a wedding present."

Joseph Alexander Conner Lennon looked at her through narrowed eyes. "Sis, it's only been three years."

"Three and a half, I'm counting," she snapped.

"And Jessie and I have been supporting each other just fine," he continued loudly. "When she can no longer work, or when we have children, then, and _only then_, will I stop supporting my sisters and brother."

Frances hung her head. "It's not right," she whispered. "You're supposed to support your own house, now."

The twenty-three-year-old smiled gently at his little sister, before placing a large hand on her bony shoulder. "Mikey told me... You were fired last week, weren't you?" he asked softly.

Her head snapped up. "The disgusting bastard wanted to sleep with me!" she whispered harshly.

"Watch your mouth, young lady," he interrupted, but she continued as though he had not said anything.

"He gave me the choice of going to bed with him, or leaving the shop right then and there." She looked away with tear-filled eyes. "Was I wrong to leave?"

His blue eyes grew hard and dark. "Absolutely not," he said, grabbing both shoulders and making her look at him. "You should never have to stoop to such low standards. You'll find something new. The economy is finally looking up a bit. Things will get better, okay?"

WWW

"Ha!" Damon laughed from the sofa.

"Oh, come on, Joey wasn't psychic or anything," Frances defended. "How was he to know when the second World War would start?"

"Look, as interesting as this all is, when do we get to the part where you tell me what I have to do with it."

Frances scowled. "Alright, so you get that it was difficult for my family, right? My father couldn't keep any of his jobs, mine weren't going so hot either, and eventually, we had to stop relying on my brother. In fact, the night we got the news…"

WWW

It was November 22nd, 1939, late at night. Frances was walking slowly down the streets, in somber silence.

She was pregnant. Jessica told them. She was going to have a child. Joey was finally going to be a father. Of course, it _would_ be right after he was deployed that Jess would find out.

"I really can't rely on him anymore," she muttered.

She had not been able to find another job at all in the past year. Occasionally, someone would pay her to clean their house, but it was not enough! It could never be enough! They were dangerously close to losing their house. Frances winced at the thought of eleven-year-old Mikey and five-year-old Meggie being forced to live on the streets, like so many others she had seen.

"No," she whispered to herself. "I won't let that happen. I can find something. I will find something."

She looked ahead, and saw her answer. Her heart sank, knowing her mother would be greatly disappointed, Joey would be furious, her father would probably disown her. No, she rationalized, if this pays his debts, then he would not care.

She walked on ahead, thinking to herself her mantra: "For family, I can do anything. For family, I will do anything. For family. For family. For Meggie and Mikey. For Jess and her new baby. This is for them. For family."

This was all that she would allow herself to think as she walked into the brothel.

Hours later, she walked up the path that led to her porch. Walking into the kitchen, she saw her father, head resting on the table. She scrunched her nose up in disgust. She looked at the thirty dollars clutched in her hand.

'_No,'_ she thought. '_Not for him. Not for his beer.'_

She crept upstairs, and shoved the money under her mattress, ready to be taken out when those damned men in suits come for her useless father's debts.

"Frances?"

She looked up, and saw Meggie blearily looking at her from the bed. She looked so innocent, so sweet, so pure. Frances began to tear up, realizing what she had just done, and what she decided to continue.

"Go back to sleep, Meggie," she whispered. "Everything will be fine."

She will keep that look on her sister's face. She will never lose that innocence.

WWW

"When you were sixteen?" Damon asked quietly.

Frances drained the last of her whiskey, then went over to refill it. "I don't regret it. It was, I had felt, my only option. I was able to do it in secret, too. My father didn't care where the money was coming from, Mikey and Meggie were too young, Joey was off fighting, and Jess… Well, Jess, I think, suspected, but she never said anything." She returned to her seat on the sofa across him. "And by the time Joey came back, two years later, we were finally debt-free, and I was bringing home at least a hundred a week. Usually." Her face hardened. "There would be times that I didn't bring home any money. Slow nights, no clients, some wouldn't pay. And even though he never really learned exactly how much I made, my father knew that I was the bread-maker. And he would always ask me for money."

She sighed and shook her head. "I never should have given him some in the first place. Never. It wasn't a lot, usually, I'd just give him a tenner. But it became a habit. He'd ask me for money, and I'd just fork it over if I had some on hand. I thought it would help him stay away from the others. But if I told him I didn't make any that night, he'd get furious. He wouldn't believe me, insist I was holding out on him, then he'd hit me."

Damon choked on air.

Frances smiled. "It never bothered me. I'd usually just yell right back." Her face grew grim again. "But then, one day… Well, let me start at the night before…"

WWW

It was October 27th, 1945.

She was walking offstage, when she bumped into a rather fetching young man, with the most piercing blue eyes she ever saw. He did not exactly look like the type to be into these sort of performances, though.

"You're quite the dancer," he commented, referring to her number which she ended just moments ago.

She smiled, hopefully in her best 'come hither' face, and said, "If you can pay, you can have your own private performance."

He smirked. "Sounds great, but do I really have to pay?"

She frowned. "Look, Mac, I don't give freebies." Her eyes widened and she mentally shook herself.

'_I can't lose another one.'_

She returned to her seductive tone of voice. "If you only look, I don't think you'll get the relief you really need," she ghosted a hand down his chest, reaching lower, "and want," she whispered. Then, she smirked, and stepped away. "But, a girl's gotta make a living. So, for a price-"

He brushed a finger on her lips. "You talk too much. Let's go." He brought her closer, brushing her hair back, looking into her eyes. "You really just want to come with me."

He was right. There was nothing she wanted to do more than to just leave with this man. Except, give anything he desired. He wants a freebie? He can have it. After all, it was just one guy. She can have many later into the week.

"Alright, handsome. Let's go downstairs."

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

She took his hand, and led him through the crowd. Before they descended, she turned around. "Got a name, Blue Eyes? Most guys like me to call 'em something."

He pulled her close, and started nuzzling her neck. "You can call me whatever you like."

She gasped. His touch, his voice, his breath… it was all so… _electrifying_.

"Alright, Blue, how about your name?"

He hummed against her neck, making her shiver. "Seems a bit of a mouthful, darling. 'Your name.' That might not work."

"Oh, funny guy."

"Let's just go down, I'm not sure how much longer I can stand. I am so… _hungry._"

She frowned. "Hungry…? Don't you want to-?"

"Oh, god, _yes._ Now let's get down."

Next thing she knew, she was in a room, standing next to a bed.

"Whoa. That was...fast. How did we-?"

"Do yourself a favor, and shut up."

He kissed her roughly, hungrily. She hummed with pleasure, as she had trained her body to do. Then she saw his face: his eyes became monstrous, demonic. He growled like a wolf before lunging for her neck.

But she was unafraid. She wondered about that before she blacked out.

When she awoke the next morning, she gasped and sat up. She gingerly brought her hand to her neck, but stopped at the sight of her wrist. There was a huge bite mark on it, dried blood scabbing over the wound. A quick check of the rest of her body showed more markings of an identical nature on her thighs, her shoulders, arms and waist. She looked to her right, and was surprised to see the client still with her. Most men were not up for cuddles in the morning. And neither was she.

She began searching for her clothes, and putting them on. Once she was completely clothed, she took a look at herself in the full length mirror. Many of the bite marks were still visible. She frowned, and walked over to the sleeping form on the bed.

"Hey," she said, in a not-so-gentle voice. The man, or maybe monster, groaned, but did not awake. So, she tried again. "Hey, Blue Eyes!"

He grabbed her wrist, and pulled her back onto the bed. "What's your problem?"

"Look, buddy," she started, yanking back her hand, "what do you plan on doing with all these bite marks?" She pointed out at her neck and arm wounds. "I can't think of many people who'd want to sleep with someone who looks mangled."

He shrugged. "Isn't that why you girls have make-up?"

"Powder can only cover up so much!" she snapped. "This can't be your first time doing something like this, so tell me: what do you plan on doing about all these bites? Is there a way you can get rid of them?"

He breathed through his lips, making a spluttering sound. "Yes, there is. But you might not like it."

"Doesn't matter. Whatever it is, I'll do it. I can't go to work, or home, with these."

"You have to drink my blood."

She stared. "What?"

"Drinking vampire blood will heal you right up."

She narrowed her eyes. "You're not just saying this to make me join your weird cult thing?"

He sighed. "No. To join my 'cult thing,' you'd have to die with my blood in your system. Do you plan on killing yourself later?"

She was taken aback. "No. I've got too many things to take care of!"

"Then your best bet would be to drink up."

She sat there silently, mentally debating. After a while, he started to get out of bed, but she grabbed his arm.

"I'll do it."

He blinked. "All right, fine." He brought his wrist to his mouth, and tore his own flesh. "Be quick," he warned.

She hesitantly took his arm, before bracing herself, and diving down. It was metallic, and warm, and she wanted to retch as it slid down her throat. But she persevered. If he had said that this will get rid of the wounds, then damn it all, she will do it. Suddenly, she couldn't get any more.

"And you're done." He pulled his arm out of her grasp. Though it was smeared with blood, the wound was gone.

She looked down at her own arms, and watched in awe as the skin quickly grew over itself. The blood and scabs were still there, but that could be easily washed off. She smiled, and looked up.

"Thanks, Blue Eyes."

She picked herself off the bed, and walked to the door. Just as she put her hand on the knob, though, her client called out.

"Wait."

She turned, and found him right behind her. He looked at her in the eye, and said, "You will not remember me, nor anything that happened tonight. It was a slow night, and you met no one. Now go home."

Frances turned around, dazed, and opened the door. She walked out, grabbing her empty purse.

WWW

"Why weren't you afraid?" Damon interrupted.

Frances thought a bit. "I think it was 'cause I was still alive. You hadn't killed me, and it didn't really seem like you wanted to. I think I was just grateful to have woken up at first, and then I was distracted by the bite marks. Anyhoo, moving on…"

WWW

When she arrived home, her father was dozing on the porch. She looked at him in disgust before turning the knob.

"What time do you think it is?"

She paused, and looked at her father. He was staring at her with one unfocused eye.

"I think it's time for you to get a job," she replied snidely.

Charles bristled. "Watch your tone, young lady. You don't speak to your father like that."

"I'll speak to you however I please, _Charles_. I disowned you as my father long ago."

They glared at each other for a moment, before he broke the silence, saying, "I need some more money."

Her eyes turned to ice. "I don't have any."

His eyes began to burn. "Lies. You always have some, now. I need some, give me some!"

"I didn't get paid last night, so I have none to give." She walked into the house. She found Mikey and Meggie sitting at their table, eating breakfast.

"Good morning, Sis," Meggie cheerfully greeted.

"Morning, Meg, Mike."

Michael grunted in reply. Frances smiled. "You were up too late studying, again, were you, Michael?"

"Test today," the seventeen-year-old replied.

"Frances."

All three snapped their heads to their father in the doorway. He was burning in furious anger. "Never walk away from me like that again."

Frances coldly replied. "I'm twenty-two, Charles. And women have equal rights now. I can do that, and more, whenever I like."

"I only need ten dollars. Just give me my ten dollars." He began to take staggering steps towards them.

"I don't have anything for you, you drunkard. I told you, I didn't get paid last night."

"Damn it all, you bitch! Just give me the fucking money!" he roared, and he lunged across the table.

"Daddy! Don't!" Meghan cried, standing up.

"Stay out of this!" He swung a hand across her face. Meghan spun around from the impact, and hit her wrist on the counter.

"Meggie!" Frances cried, leaping to her sister's side. Her face was bruising and quickly swelling, as well her right hand. With a howl of rage, Frances lunged herself at her father.

"What the hell, you bastard!" she shrieked, punching and kicking at every inch she could reach. "I don't have anything for you, but you don't take it out on them!"

Charles, a World War One veteran, had much more strength that his eldest daughter. He grabbed at her wrists, and held them high. "You fucking bitch," he spat. "You dare to try to fight me, you piece of trash?!" And he threw her.

She flew through the air, until she hit her head on the corner of the wooden table with a loud _crack!_ She fell to the floor, where a pool of blood was quickly growing from her head. Charles stared at his daughter's body, before storming outside again.

Michael was staring wide-eyed at his elder sister. Tentatively, he walked closer. "Sis?" The blood continued to flow. "Frances?"

Meghan began to whimper and scooted closer. Frances' eyes continued to stare ahead blankly.

"Frances?" Mikey's voice cracked, and tears began to form. "Oh, God, what do we do?"

"Joey," Meggie whimpered, tears falling freely. "Call Joey."

Suddenly, a voice called out. "Hey, kids! Where's your father? He's not at his usual- Sweet Sisters! What happened?!"

Jessica Lennon stared in horror at the body on the floor. She quickly turned around and practically screamed, "Danny, Davey, _don't come in here!_ David, take your brother outside, _now._" She shifted the baby girl in her arms so that her little head was peeking over her mother's shoulders. "Michael. Meghan. _What happened?_"

"Daddy…" Meghan choked out. "Daddy killed her."

"He hit Meggie, then Sis attacked him, then he threw her onto the table."

"She's dead!" sobbed the eleven-year-old. "She's not getting up!"

"What do we do, Jess?"

Jessica's eyes filled with tears, and she clutched at her baby. "Call the police, Michael. And you and Meghan will stay with us." She looked up, eyes filled with fury. "We can't have you two being raised by a murderer."

Suddenly, Frances sat up with a gasp, hitting the top of her head on the table. "Ow, ow ow ow ow! What the…?" She looked around, saw Mikey and Meggie scooted far away from her, and Jess was looking at her with wide and terrified eyes. "Where is that damned drunkard? And… Jess? When did you get here?"

Jessica glared at the younger two Lennons. "Was this a joke this entire time?!" she shrieked. "That was _not funny!_"

Frances covered her ears in pain. "What the hell? Jess, what's going on?"

"What's going on?" she echoed. "Frances Noreen Abigail, that was just _disgusting!_ Did you put them up to it? Is this supposed to be a joke for the thirty-first? Because nothing about that was funny! I brought _my kids_ here!"

Meggie shook her head. "It wasn't a joke," she whispered.

Mikey was staring with equal horror. "Father really did push her," he added softly.

Frances was looking down, as if trying hard to remember something. "Meggie!" she cried suddenly. "Let me see your hand!"

Meghan obediently held out her swollen hand, silently and still wide-eyed.

"We've got to get you to the hospital, we need to get this looked at." Frances turned around, and spotted the blood on the floor. "Oh my god… was I lying in that? What that there before?"

"Before what, Sis?" Michael asked.

"Before Charles…" Her own eyes got wide, and she brought her hand to her head. She pulled it back to reveal wet blood. "Oh my god… I… I _died._" She stepped back away from everyone. "I think Charles killed me…" She looked at everyone in confusion, and horror. "So how can I…?"

"Frances, this isn't funny!" Jessica yelled.

"Do I _look_ like I'm joking, Jess?!" she yelled back. She brought a hand to her mouth. "Argh, my teeth…! This hurts so much! And would someone shut the drapes? The sun is _blinding _today!"

WWW

Back in the present, Frances paused, staring at her empty glass.

"Your own father?"

She snapped her head up. "That man stopped earning that title two months after Meggie was born. Even when I was eleven, I wanted him out of our lives. He wasn't doing anything to help. The only reason I stayed was for Mikey and Meggie. And because of my age, I couldn't take them away. But that night, on the twenty-ninth…"

WWW

Charles staggered up the steps to the darkened house at two o'clock in the morning. He frowned. There would normally be at least one light on, in the kitchen, for his dinner. The youngest always left him some food, bless her. He opened the door and headed for the kitchen.

However, dinner was not what was waiting for him.

"You!" he gasped.

Frances stepped into the moonlight. "Me."

"But, you… you were…"

"Dead? I know. You _murdered_ me." Her eyes grew hard and she took a step closer. "You _hit_ Meghan, then _killed _me."

He stepped back. She stepped closer.

"You know something, Charles? The only reason I stayed was because of those two. And the only reason I let _you_ stay was because of those two. Now, though? Now that you've shown your true colors, I'm telling you. Don't ever enter this house again. You are _forbidden _from getting anywhere _near_ my family."

"_Your_ family?" Charles spluttered. "Without me, they wouldn't exist!"

"And without me, they wouldn't have _survived_. Hell, _you_ wouldn't have survived!" She stepped right up to his face. "You stinking drinking son of a bitch, you stole from your children, you would've starved your children, you abused them, you actually _killed_ one of them! You are not fit to be a family member!"

He put on a sneer. "And you are? I found out where you get the money, you whore. What would your mother say to that?"

Frances punched him in the jaw, sending him into the wall. "Don't you _dare _use Mama against me! At least I found something to pay _your_ debts! At least I was willing to do _anything_ to keep us off the streets! She'd be much more upset that you spent every waking moment drinking your sorrows! Drinking 'cause you couldn't get a job, and you couldn't get a job 'cause you were drinking! A never-ending cycle that you just wouldn't break!"

Charles rubbed his face, and spat out a tooth. Some blood hit the wall and dribbled down his chin.

Frances' eyes grew large as she inhaled the most intoxicating scent. She stepped closer to her father, as if in a trance.

"You _dared _to hit me, again?" he growled, not noticing the look in her eyes. He stepped back, suddenly, hitting the wall. His daughter was suddenly right up to him again, staring at him, at his mouth. She slowly brought her hand to his chin, and wiped at the blood with her thumb. He looked on in horror as she put the digit inside her mouth.

"What the hell, child?"

She snapped her head back to him. He gasped in fright. Her eyes, normally a beautiful blue, like his beloved Patty, were surrounded by a dark red, giving her a monstrous look.

"More," she growled. She placed her hands on his head, and began licking at his chin, his lips, _inside his mouth_!

He struggled against her, trying to push her away, but she remained steadfast. He could not budge her! This wisp of a girl was stronger than he? That was not the case just this morning!

"Be still," she demanded, looking into his eyes. He did as he was told. Her eyes wandered to his neck. She gave a smirk. "Like I said, you won't be getting near my family again." She opened her mouth wide, fangs protruding, and ripped his throat out.

WWW

Frances glanced at Damon, who was studying his own glass.

"I don't regret that, either."

He snapped up to look at her in surprise.

"I already said, he wasn't much of a father. And I was willing to keep him away from us, no matter what I had to do." She inhaled deeply. "The first few weeks were hell after that night. I told Mikey and Meghan to stay with Joey for a while. I didn't want them getting hurt, and I just knew that I would. They came every day, though." She smiled fondly. "They'd just stand in the doorway, asking me if I was doing okay, staying in the sunlight. And at night, I'd do everything in my power to stay away from them. That usually led to dead clients. After, I think, a month, they moved back in. And I protected them with every ounce of my being. It was like, a drive. I couldn't stop thinking about keeping them away from any sort of discomfort."

Damon nodded. "When one becomes a vampire, their natural tendencies become amplified. You were willing to do anything for your family, so, that became your reason to live on, I guess."

"After they moved in, things became much more simple. I would just tell clients to fork over the money I'd need, without having to do anything, and Mikey and Meggie let me feed off them."

Damon's eyebrows shot up. Frances shrugged.

"I didn't want to kill anyone, and they didn't want me to, either. And they knew that I'd never try to hurt them, so, they'd just hold out their arms whenever they saw me getting too moody, or something. And I'd feed them my blood to heal them. Just a little bit, though."

"I still don't see what your 'debt' to me is."

Frances smiled. "They grew up wonderfully. Mikey had a son, Ian, and who grew up to have two twin daughters. Debbie has two kids, and Ellie has three. Mikey was able to see his youngest great-granddaughter turn two before he died. And Meggie, haha, she just went to town. She has eight children, and twenty-one grandchildren, and seven great-grandchildren. Her line is so huge."

Her face sobered a little. "Jess never really forgave me for that day, though. She was serious when she said she didn't want Mike and Meg to be raised by murderers. And she was certain that that was what I did to Charles. And when she told my brother, he refused to let me near his children. David was five at the time, and Danny was two. Sara was only a few months. He loosened up over the years though, realizing that I'd never do anything to them. David has two boys and a granddaughter, now. Danny had four children, but one died at age fifteen. His eldest two gave him seven grandchildren, and he has a great-grandchild on the way. Mary, his youngest, refuses to get married. And Sara has five kids, eleven grandkids, and one great-grandkid. That gives Joey and Jess three children, eleven grandchildren, nineteen great-grandchildren, and at the moment, two great, great-grandchildren."

"All very fascinating, but I'm not-"

"Because of you, I died and came back," Frances interrupted. "Because I came back, I killed my father. Because I killed my father, I have _one hundred six_ members in my family." She smiled, and her eyes sparkled with grateful tears. "My debt to you, feels like it can _never_ be repaid. Because of what you did, my family grew healthy, happy, and large. I was able to protect them, nurture them, keep them growing." She laughed a little. "I'm also the family threat, you know. Whenever someone acts in a way that they know I wouldn't approve of, the parents tell their kid, 'Do you want me to call Aunt Sis?'" She stood up, and walked to Damon, kneeling before him. "I just wanted to thank you, Damon. Thank you so much, even though it was unintentional, it did happen because of you. And I mean it. _Thank you._" She reached her arms around his neck, and gave him a tight hug.

Damon sat there stiffly before awkwardly and briefly returning the hug. Frances released him, and stood up again.

"That's it?" Damon asked.

She smiled. "That's it."

"All this, just to say thank you?"

"Yep."

He shook his head in disbelief. "I can't…"

She laughed. "I know. But like I've been saying, Michael died last year. Meghan and I were talking, and we realized, looking at our entire family, that probably none of them would be there if it weren't for me, and I definitely wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. My family owes you their lives, in a sense. But I'll take that, and give it to you. Anything you need from us, you can come to me." She paused a bit. "We've been in debt before. It's not a good experience. Meggie definitely will _not _die feeling like her children are going to be exploited for this debt. I'll take it all. Right now, you have one hundred and seven free favors, and as each child is born, it increases. Of course," she added, "as each member dies, it decreases, but let's think positively."

Damon paused thinking. "And why would you exploit one hundred and fifty dollars from me?"

She laughed a bit. "I was thinking that you wouldn't pay up after I told you the story. I owe you over a hundred favors, and you owe me one fifty? You do the math."

"Why try to take money from me, though?"

Her eyes grew hard. "I still haven't forgotten that because I came home empty-handed that night, my father nearly shattered my sister's face and broke her wrist. _That_ is what the one fifty would be for."

"And now she's dying, and you would do what with it?"

"Give it to her kids, of course. I'd only give them eighteen bucks, but it's what Meg wants."

Damon sighed. "I'll give you the money. I suppose it's the least I could do."

Frances smiled. "Thank you. I'll collect some other day."

"What?"

"I need to go tell Meggie right now, that everything is taken care of." Her face fell a little. "I know that the moment I tell her, she'll leave. It's really one of the only things that's keeping her here." She smiled sadly as tears filled her eyes. "But I promised her, forever ago, that'd she'd meet our mother with the happiest of smiles, no regrets. And then she promised me, that she'd give Mama the biggest of hugs from me every day," her voice wavered as she continued, "since I'll never be able to do it."

Frances Noreen Abigail Lennon walked over to the entrance. Before she left, she turned around.

"I'll see you in hell, Blue Eyes."

* * *

_A/N: And finished. My first Vampire Diaries fan-fiction. Thank you for the faves and follows, and thanks to _**findingyouagain**_ and_ **Nixia **_for the reviews. And kudos to_ **findingyouagain**_ for guessing that bit about her father!_

_I hope that this wasn't too much of a let down; I suppose some people would think that all this to say a simple thank you is a bit extreme. But when Frances was created, she insisted on being family-orientated. Her family, is her life. So naturally, she'd be eternally grateful (and she actually can be) to anyone who had a hand in protecting or nurturing her family. Also, with her history of being in debt, she would rather make sure she would never be in such a situation again. (Think like Scarlett O'Hara swearing to never go hungry again.) She also knows that there are people who would make IOU over anything. She doesn't want Damon to suddenly remember this and think he has a hold on her. (Remember, she doesn't know him very well.) She'd rather make sure that if there was a debt, it would go through her, and leave her family safe and out of it._

_I don't know if there will be a sequel. Maybe if this gets more positive feedback, and enough people ask for one, I'll think of something. But for now, we'll just leave with Sis's promise._


End file.
